I Am Slytherin
by Brother Porter
Summary: Severus brings something interesting back from a carboot sale... HPSSslash, established relationship, no minor involved


I am Slytherin

Great. Just great. Here I am again, forced to patiently endure all these insufferable mudbloods, squibs and snobby purebloods staring at me.  
And it's all Godric's fault. I'd love to get my hands on that blasted Gryffindor, if I still had any. Which I don't, courtesy of the aforementioned bastard.  
Damn him to the ninth level of hell if he isn't already there. He surely deserves to, I'd bet my rim for that. He deserves everything the fates could ever heap on him.  
Of course no one today has any idea of what that accursed Gryffindor was really like. Godric, the oh so beloved hero and saviour of the wizarding world, who managed to stop the oh so evil Salazar Slytherin from killing all the mudbloods. Come on guys, let's fave reality for a while. Nothing's ever only black or white.  
Except for Godric, of course. At least that's what they tell children nowadays. And so many of them look up to some Harry Potter or other, who is said to have saved the world from Voldemort, the true heir of Slytherin. Really. Not even Godric would have been stupid enough to make someone like Tom Malvolio Riddle his heir. Though, considering Godric's lack of intelligence... maybe.  
Surprised? I'm not stupid, you know. Even though I am just a tattered, old hat and nobody would ever look at me twice. Of course they don't know that I'm sentient, either, the fools. Sometimes they're worse than muggles. Ignorant idiots, the whole lot of them.

SS/HPSS/HP

Yes! Someone's finally looking at me! He even seems to consider buying me! Oh please, do get me away from this rumble sale! I can't stand it anymore! Looking at me he may be, but he's not much of a looker. Tall, dark and brooding, that's what I think would describe him best.  
His eyes are almost as dark as his midnight black robe, staring at me from a face with a rather prominent nose. Sallow cheeks, tainted skin and the hair seems to be somewhat greasy. But looks never said much about character. Godric was the best proof for that. And why by Merlin's balls am I thinking of that traitorous bastard again?  
Yes! He's turning to that mindless bat of a witch, who's currently owning me! Perhaps he'll be willing to buy me? Perhaps?

"This hat looks as though it has already seen better days," the human sneers, "And as though these days are already long past."  
He, I heard that! Git!

"It's some sort of family heirloom, Professor," the old cat smiles, "Would you like to buy it?"  
Him, not it! I'm a male hat! Well, not exactly, but I think that's the closest one can get to actually describing my current situation. Blasted Gryffindor.

The man, overgrown bat would fit as well, but it wouldn't do to insult my only would-be-owner so far, even if he cannot hear it, raises an elegant eyebrow, sneering again. Does he practise that in front of the mirror?

"Why should I wish to acquire such a shabby hat?"  
I'm not shabby! A little worn perhaps but hey, you should try lying around for centuries, protected only by some of Godric's feeble attempts at safety spells.

"My grandmother always used to say that when the hat was unlocked a lot of power would come to the wizard who managed to do it."

"Really?" The man raises another eyebrow, poking me with his wand, "This.. thing doesn't look as though it would know power if it bit it in the"

"Professor Snape!" The old bat is blushing! Ha, that I live to see that day! If what I do these days an be called living at all.

"Very well," he sighs, "How much do you want for that thing?"

SS/HPSS/HP

I think I'd sigh if I could. Or scream and yell. Or maybe even cry. I'm finally away from that old bat of a witch who let me rot in the cellar but what's so great about sitting on one of the top shelves in a damned dungeon? Merlin's balls! At least there's a portrait of me in the room. Of the way I was before Godric Gryffindor gave me this hat and managed to suck my spirit into the damned head-wear.  
At least I'm back at Hogwarts.

The room I'm in seems to be the living room of that Snape professor and I have to admit, he's got style. But what else could be expected of a Slytherin?

"Severus!" A loud knocking echoes through the room? Who is that at the door? And why is my owner opening the door to someone, who announces himself like that?  
The door swings aside to reveal an angry young man with tousled dark hair and flashing green eyes. Is that a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his head? It really seems to be. this must be the infamous Harry Potter, then. Good.  
"Severus! You gave another one of my pupils an unjustified detention?"

"I never give unjustified detenions, Potter," my owner snarls, sitting down in one of the elegant black leather chairs, "As you should know very well, having received so many of them. Firewhiskey?"

"No!" The green eyes narrow dangerously as he stalks over to Severus, looming ominously over him, "And this detention is unjustified! Jonathan did nothing to..."

"I assure you, Professor Potter, that Mr Harding did everything to earn that detention. "

"You," Potter growls, "Are impossible."

"Am I, Mr Potter?" Another raised eyebrow and I laugh inwardly. My new owner's certainly good at getting under Potter's skin. I think my stay here will be interesting.

"Yes." A low hiss.

"And just what do you intend to do about that? Run to Albus and complain?"

"Not at all," a wicked gleam suddenly appears in Potter's eyes, "But there is something else I might be thinkning of..."

"Is there indeed, Mr Potter?" My owner stares into the green eyes, now only mere inches from his, "And her I was under the impression that you were barely able to think..."

With an angry growl Potter closes the distance between them, forcefully claiming my owner's lips. Laboured moans whisper through the air, long, slender fingers claw themselves into tousled hair as they fight, neither of them willing to let go of the bruising kiss.

Finally they part, chests heaving, as they stare at each other with undisguised passion.

"Potter..." a warning.

"Snape..." a mimicking growl and almost instantly they're fused together, lips hungrily devouring each other's, hands clawing at robes and trousers and both of them tumble to the ground, right beside the leather chair.  
"Severus..." Potter finally managed to undress my owner and with a wave of his hands accioes a bottle from the near work table.

They are perfect. One tall and slender, subtly muscled with pale skin and the other young and vibrant, small and athletic with a light tan. Green eyes glaring at dark brown ones.  
They're as different as night and day as they stare at one another for a split second, the light from the fireplace dancing over their skin in a memory of shadowy flames.

Sweet Merlin, what are they doing? My owner has turned around and is now kneeling in front of the chair, resting his upper body upon it, his pale skin a stark contrats to the black leather as he arches back against Potter. He groans as the other man withdraws his hands, obviously using whatever was in the bottle as lube.

"Don't..." my owner pants, pushing back, "Just... take..."  
I can't belive it but Potter actually obeys, slowly sheathing himself within my owner, face twisted into a mask of concentration as he forces himself to remain still for a moment, and then thrusting with incoherent abandon as my owner pushes back against him.  
I do hope they have some silencing charms and wards up. If not, there's surely going to be a situation. Not that that wouldn't be entertaingin as well.

I think I'm going to like it here I decide, as I watch them frantically trying to devour every inch of each other.

They are even more beautiful in the afterglow of their orgasms and I sigh softly, earning a startled look from my owner's lover.

"Severus?"

"Hmmm?"

"Where's that hat from?"

"Bought it today. Was very cheap."

Startled green eyes stare at me. "But why?"

"It's said to be cursed. Thought it might be a nice present for Dumbledore." My owner mumbles sleepily.

"You think the headmaster might like that thing?" Potter asks incredulously and I swear, if I had a heart, I would have had a heart attack right now.  
Not the headmaster, please, I plead silently, whatever you do, please don't give me to the headmaster! I'd meet that accursed sorting hat again if they did! Wouldn't do at all. We parted on bad terms, you see.

Relationships are never simple between a sorting hat and a hat enspelled to contain the consciousness of one of the most powerful wizards ever born. One year, about a century ago, the sorting hat refused to sort after one of our fights. That was when the headmaster decided to give me away. I'm sure this Albus-person won't be much better.  
On the other hand... maybe the sorting hat would be willing to restart our relationship where we left it? Or I could trick it into doing so.  
I am Slytherin, after all. Salazar Slytherin.

Finis

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